the music festival hums with life, each note from the stage weaving through the crowd. you’re somewhere in the back, surrounded by friends who are too busy singing along to notice you’ve stopped. your eyes are locked on the guitarist—hyeongjun.

he looks calm under the stage lights, his fingers moving effortlessly along the strings. but when his gaze finds yours in the sea of faces, something shifts. his lips curve into the faintest smile, a private one meant just for you. you can’t look away, not when he’s looking at you like that, not when the song feels like it’s carrying a message only you understand.

when the set ends, hyeongjun steps down from the stage, his bass slung casually over his shoulder. you don’t expect him to come your way, not until he’s suddenly in front of you, holding out his guitar pick. “here,” he says, a little breathless, as if the whole performance had led to this moment. you stare at it, then at him, but he just smiles—shy, proud, and entirely certain.